


immaculate

by allechant



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: F/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allechant/pseuds/allechant
Summary: he was supposed to be leading the perfect life, chasing his dreams, pursuing his passions. but he wasn't.
Relationships: Hatsune Miku/Kagamine Len
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	immaculate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kttriangle (midnight4568)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight4568/gifts).



Len was pacing around his messy apartment, wondering exactly when she would arrive.

He wasn’t nervous. Not in the slightest. He was just full of pent-up energy and he was trying to expend it all before she came because he didn’t want her to _think_ he was eager to meet her or anything like that. As though he had the time to think about anything besides work.

Suddenly, he heard a knock and he whipped around, jumping over a stack of takeout boxes and an empty carton of milk to rush to the door. His heart racing, he reached for the doorknob before he hesitated – was it her? He didn’t have a peephole, so he couldn’t check.

But then again, it wasn’t like he ever got visitors anyway.

Making up his mind, he threw open the door, and the first thing he saw was long teal hair and bright green eyes that widened when her gaze landed upon him. “Are you Miku?” he asked. There was something about the smile on her face that felt strangely familiar.

And she was so pretty, too. Ever since she said she was coming over to see him, he’d been wondering what she might look like. No one knew since she insisted on using that dumb cartoon leek as her profile picture. Piko had tried asking her to reveal her face numerous times, but she always found ways to change the topic.

“Yes!” Her smile widened and she clasped her hands before her, shuffling her feet. “I hope I’m not intruding by visiting so suddenly, but everyone was concerned about you, so…”

“Don’t worry. You’re not interrupting anything.” He stepped aside, inviting her in, and she took off her shoes and placed them neatly on the doorstep before entering his apartment.

He was aware that his living space was a complete mess, so it didn’t come as a surprise when she stopped and stared at the room, then at him, then back at the room again. He _did_ feel a little self-conscious about the junk food packets strewn all over the floor, and surreptitiously, he tried to nudge one of the takeaway boxes behind the sofa with his foot.

“It’s been a while since you cleaned, huh.” There was no malice in her voice, but still, he flinched. That statement reminded him of how long it’d been since he last felt in control of his life. How long it’d been since anything went the way it was supposed to.

It didn’t help that _she_ was the one to say those words. Not when he’d always wondered what it would be like to finally meet her. Not when he occasionally thought about holding her hand and stepping out with her into the sunshine. He didn’t want her to see him in this state – vulnerable, messy, the complete opposite of what he tried to be in front of other people.

But she wasn’t _other people_. She was Miku. When she smiled and turned towards him with her hands on her hips, something in his chest twisted and he thought he might just believe anything she had to say. “Right! Our first order of business is to get this place tidied up!”

His immediate instinct was to protest. The mere thought of sorting out his mess was enough to make him die a little inside. But there was a stubborn set to her jaw, and he decided he was better off not arguing. “Fine.” He paused, looking around the room. “How do I start?”

She shot him a bright grin. “We can start by picking up all these empty boxes. I’m sure things will be a whole lot easier once we can actually _see_ the floor.”

There was a teasing lilt to her tone and he felt his face warm at the sight of her smile. All this while he’d been curious about her appearance, and now she was _here_ , in his apartment, closer than she had ever been. Part of him wondered if he was just dreaming.

He got to work on one corner of the living room while she bustled around the sofa, having somehow found a broom and dustpan. They quickly settled into an easy rhythm, discarding junk and sweeping up piles of rubbish while they made small talk. Miku was a good listener, he knew that much from their chats, and he found himself rambling on and on about various topics while they worked together, steadily clearing his apartment of litter.

“Mm, I got inspired by the shows I watched as a kid, I guess,” he said, pausing with a damp tablecloth in his hand. “I always thought it'd be nice to create my own characters.”

“You always sounded passionate about your art.” She nodded. “Nero mentioned that your work has been featured in some popular games! That's pretty impressive.”

“I guess,” he muttered – she seemed to sense his shift in mood, and she gave him a questioning look. He forced a smile on his face. “Would you like a drink? I can get you some water,” he said, keeping his tone carefully pleasant.

“No, thank you. I'm good,” she answered. She was staring at him, and it was beginning to make him feel almost _uncomfortable_. Like she could read his mind or something.

They continued cleaning in silence, though once in a while he caught her glancing at him. It made his skin prickle. The sensation wasn’t exactly _unpleasant_ , but he found himself missing the sound of her voice. Without her questions and laughter, the silence felt…disorienting.

After a few minutes, he couldn’t bear it any longer. The tension was overwhelming. “My work is popular, but likes and exposure don’t pay the bills. I live day by day, hoping I won’t have some emergency or sudden illness. And sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing things right. I don’t know if moving to the city helped me in any way. And I miss…I kind of miss my family.”

It wasn’t like he set out intending to confide in her, but the thoughtfulness on her face was so _calming_. Telling her the truth felt like the most simple, straightforward thing in the world, and he had no idea why he didn’t do it sooner.

She didn’t answer right away. He placed his cleaning cloth on the table, no longer in the mood to continue. Miku put the broom and dustpan behind the sofa then turned and walked towards him. He found himself holding his breath as she drew closer.

Then a sudden smile curved her lips and she placed her hand on his shoulder – he flinched at the unexpected contact, unsure how to respond to her nearness.

“I don't pretend to understand exactly what you're going through, but what I do know is that you love what you do, and your art makes people happy!” She cleared her throat. “It's easy to lose sight of things and spiral into self-doubt. That's perfectly normal. But there is always something to be grateful for, even if you can't think of it at that exact moment.”

He didn't know what to say. Sure, he had his fair share of fans, but it was one thing to read encouragement on social media and another to hear such words coming out of someone's mouth. Someone who wasn't his family or a close friend; someone who stared at him with determination in her eyes and a smile that could light up an entire room.

“I…thank you.” It didn't sound like a good-enough answer, but she nodded anyway, seemingly satisfied. He felt awkward, turning her words – no, not so much the words themselves, but rather the way she looked when she said them – over in his head. She didn't seem like she was cheering him on _just because_ ; she sounded completely serious. Genuine.

For a second he allowed himself to wonder why she might be so invested in his affairs. Why would she care? It wasn't like many people bothered to dive too deep into his personal life – he was Kagamine Len, a successful artist whose work was featured in several publications, who had been invited to collaborate on all kinds of major projects, who had won multiple awards, who had made it in life as a result of his hard work.

He glanced around his apartment, at the layer of dust he knew covered most items besides the sofa and the fridge. At the bedroom door, which he hadn't opened in weeks because just thinking about getting up from bed exhausted him – at the kitchen, which was empty save for some dry food, one set of cutlery and a stainless steel pot with a missing lid.

Truthfully, he didn't know how he ended up like this. He was so tired – tired of being placed on a pedestal, tired of living up to expectations that didn't feed him. Once upon a time, he simply wanted to create; now, it felt like if he didn't do things a certain way he'd lose all the support he gained and everything he had built so far would fall apart.

But he was grateful for her presence. It'd been so long since he last truly spoke to someone – sure, he didn't know Miku as long as he did the others, but she made him feel so at ease. There was no hint of judgement on her face, and the fact that he didn't know her well actually _helped_ in getting him to open up.

After all, the less they knew about each other, the more truthful her opinions were likely to be, right?

“You know, when you smile like that it's kind of cute.” The words slipped out of his mouth without him even thinking, and he froze, his thoughts abruptly coming to a halt.

“Thank you?” The lilt in her voice made it sound more like a question than a statement.

“It's just your smile! You know, the same way a kid is cute but also kind of annoying.” He was babbling, but she didn't seem too bothered, whistling merrily as she went back to the broom and dustpan. He frowned, not wanting her to misunderstand – he _didn't_ find her cute or attractive or anything. He was just…he was thanking her for her help so far, that's all.

Time passed quickly, and before he knew it Miku was calling it a day, having returned from throwing out the rubbish. “I'll make dinner!” She beamed, ignoring his protests as she walked into the kitchen and threw open the fridge.

Her face fell as she took in its contents – a giant bottle of water and an expired bar of chocolate. She went on to check the cupboards, managing to find one packet of instant ramen, a half-empty bottle of soy sauce, an old pair of chopsticks and a cobweb. “Len, there's nothing in your kitchen.”

“I have one pack of instant ramen. Don’t look at me like that!” he added, noticing the expression on her face. “It’s still food!”

“Yeah, food with absolutely no nutritional value whatsoever.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow let’s go and get some groceries. No kitchen deserves to be this empty.”

He blinked. “Tomorrow?” Wasn’t she going to leave after dinner?

“Mm. I was hoping you’d let me stay for the night since we aren’t done and…well, it’s getting late and Lily’s apartment is quite some distance away from here.” She paused. “I don’t want to leave you alone, either. But if you’re uncomfortable then I won’t intrude.”

“No! You aren’t intruding!” The words slipped out of his mouth instantly, his thoughts all over the place. It wasn’t that he minded her staying over. But he'd never had an overnight guest before, and there was only one bed. “It's just that I don't have another mattress…”

“Oh, that's fine! I can sleep on the sofa,” she said, and he recoiled at the suggestion – the sofa was narrow and he could feel the springs shifting underneath him every time he moved. There was no way he could make her sleep there. At least _he_ was used to the discomfort.

“No, you can take my bed. I'll sleep here.” He hadn't slept in his room in a while. Hopefully, it wasn't dusty or anything like that. She hesitated, but before she could protest he placed a hand on her back and steered her away from the sofa.

His bedroom looked the way he remembered it – white sheets, sparse furniture, an empty spot where his desk used to be. He'd moved his workspace into the living room so it was easier to start on projects; in truth, he’d almost forgotten the colour of his bedroom walls.

“Well, if you need anything…just let me know, I guess.” Though he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to help her. He could barely even help himself. She met his gaze, searching his face for _something_ – he glanced away, uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact. “What do you want to eat for dinner? I’ll order takeout since there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“I’m fine with anything! Just order what you usually would,” she said. Len hesitated. His usual was pepperoni pizza followed by an unhealthy amount of soda – it was a miracle that he was still this skinny. He didn’t want Miku to see him ordering that. It felt kind of…pathetic.

If he had his life together, maybe he’d be eating salads and baguettes in a lofty penthouse in the middle of the city, and he wouldn’t have to worry about impressing a girl he barely knew. But as it was, he almost couldn't find the energy to drag himself to his workstation on most days, and more than once he’d contemplated just slumping over his sofa and starving to death.

Len was very much aware that he was _far_ from put-together. How Miku hadn’t recoiled and left his house in disgust yet was a complete mystery to him.

“I’ll order fast food,” he finally said. Anything but more pizza. He’d ordered from the same pizza parlour so many times that the delivery guy knew him by name, and that was kind of embarrassing. “Any preference? If not I’m sticking with the golden arches.”

She shook her head. He made the call and once that was done, they waited, neither one of them trying to break the silence. He didn’t feel obliged to talk, and she didn't try to force him either, both of them using their phones and occasionally peeking at each other. After fifteen minutes passed – he had been keeping track – she finally spoke.

“Would it be okay for me to look at some of your projects?” He shrugged and went over to his computer, opening his folder of incomplete work for her. She was immediately sucked in, making small sounds of appreciation as she studied each piece, and a flicker of pride blossomed in his chest at her clear admiration of his art.

He knew he was a great artist – hell, he’d spent most of his life dedicated to perfecting his craft – but it was nice to _see_ someone actively appreciating what he made. It was different from sitting behind a screen, scrolling through comments. It was different from turning in work for pay, and it was _definitely_ different from listening to the remarks of judges and critics. Plus, he liked that she enjoyed something that _he_ had made. It was…nice.

Once their food came, they ate and then she pointed out how late it was getting, and how they’d need to wake up early to get their hands on the freshest produce. He rolled his eyes, not very fussed about grocery shopping – the likelihood of him cooking for himself was practically nil – but he didn’t want to stamp out the enthusiasm on her face, so he sighed and said okay.

“Good night, Len,” she said with her hand poised over his bedroom door. “And thank you for today. I really appreciate you letting me sleep on your bed. Sorry if I caused any trouble.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t, so stop worrying about it. Plus, you helped me clean up the living room, so this is the least I can do.” She grinned, and with a final wave, she stepped into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. He watched the closed door for a while, then tore his gaze away and headed over to the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position.

It was strange. He ought to be used to sleeping here by now – he’d spent the past couple of _months_ stuck here, after all. But when she arrived, she brought along with her a whole bunch of changes and now he couldn’t help but notice how stiff he was. The sofa wasn’t helping.

With a sigh, he huddled underneath his thin blanket, hugging one of his threadbare cushions to his chest. As he closed his eyes, he wondered if Miku would visit him again. Having a guest around felt _different_. But it wasn’t a bad sort of different. It made his apartment feel less like a temporary holding area and more like the home it was supposed to be.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing his bedroom door. Maybe from tomorrow onwards, he should start sleeping in his room again. He had a bed, so he should use it, right? He couldn’t even remember why he moved into the living room in the first place. Something about being exhausted. Maybe something about how lonely it was to wake up in that bed every day.

It was the first time in a while that he dared to admit he was lonely. He shouldn’t be, not with the amount of attention he received from his work, from his games. But he was. And he never felt this more acutely than when Miku was in his apartment, mere feet away from where he was.

This was stupid. He just wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t resilient enough to live on his own. If he continued this way, maybe he’d eventually grow past the need for human interaction – people were unreliable, and if he was constantly alone then he didn’t need to worry that he’d one day get hurt by someone. But still. Part of him missed hearing the sound of another person’s voice.

It might have been easier if Miku didn’t come to see him. Then perhaps he wouldn’t be this confused. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret her visit, and he didn’t think he ever would.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a mystic messenger crossover, but in the end, i didn't dive much into the MM world and it felt strange to just namedrop the RFA members' names, so it was changed to be purely vocaloid. hope this sheds some light on the mysterious chat len keeps referencing!
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/dontenchantme)


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